


More Than One Way To Hurt

by intotheruins



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But it does end on an okay note, Dark, Drugs, Drugs used as sex pollen, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Suicide mention, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: Written for the Peter Parker/Tony Stark square on my MCU Kink Bingo card. Someone is trying to discredit the Avengers, and they have a particularly twisted scenario in mind for Tony.READ THE TAGS.





	More Than One Way To Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: READ THE TAGS. This is not a pretty story, though it does end on an okay note.

Spider Boy really needed to stop dropping in on battles.

It was Tony's fault. As usual, he tried to make things better and just ended up screwing the pooch even more spectacularly than normal. The hell had he been thinking, bringing a fifteen year old to a Avenger free for all? To a _war._ Sure, the kid was doing some crazy shit on his own anyway (Tony sure as hell didn't have any room to talk, considering the shit he'd been up to at fifteen) but now he just couldn't keep his nose out of a fight. All the right intentions, of course—Peter was just about the nicest damn kid Tony had ever met—but that wasn't the point.

The point was good people laid out bloody because Tony Stark couldn't ever quite seem to get it right.

On the plus side, Peter wasn't actually bloody. Tony sure as hell was, suit or no suit. FRIDAY hadn't been able to make contact since Iron Man was shot out of the sky, so he had no idea what his vitals were right now—probably something along the lines of Bruised to the Bone with a side of Am I Bleeding Internally? He really hoped not; rescue would probably be a while considering this attack had come out of fucking nowhere (he'd been on his way to see Rhodey, though, so there is that. Rhodey will notice). 

He'd been doing fine at first, fending off missiles flying at him from out of goddamn nowhere, admittedly doing better once Peter (hanging out on a roof again, he really needed to have a talk with the kid about safety) started webbing them out of the sky. Then the hit, and—

“Mr. Stark? Are you okay?”

Oh, right. He needed to be dad now. No, not  _Dad,_ never him. He could at least be better at that, and to hell with the fact that Peter wasn't related to him in any way.

“Yeah, yeah kid, I'm okay.” Tony groaned, injected a bit of drama to keep the tone as light as possible. Managed to roll into a sitting position, which didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, good sign. “You good?”

“I'm okay,” Peter said and god, that face, that earnest little face. Fifteen years old and he was trying so hard to assure Tony that everything was okay with just a _look._

He kinda wanted to kill anything that ever made such a good kid look like that, but then he'd have to kill himself and, well. Somehow, he still didn't hate himself that much.

Besides, it was really the fault of the attacker. Yeah. Tony will just focus all his irritation on that... whatever it was. He hadn't seen a damn thing, actually, just a sudden, sharp warning from FRIDAY and then BAM. Lights out. A blast of some kind? Would have to be pretty strong to take him out. S.H.I.E.L.D level strong, but they're gone. Hydra? Nah, Hydra would be all over him already. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter scooted a bit closer, hunching down in an attempt to meet Tony's eyes. His Spiderman suit is still on, except for the mask. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Never better.” Tony waved a hand, still covered in the suit but dented and covered in scorch marks. “Hey, is Karen working?”

Peter shook his head. “No, she went offline right after you got hit.”

Great. Fucking great. Damn, why was it so hot in here? Tony pulled off the faceplate and hit the manual release, which thankfully was still functional. He smeared a hand over his forehead, flinging drops of sweat away. 

“How'd they get you?” Tony stood, bracing his hand against a cool stone wall—basement? Low ceiling, lots of stone and cement, yeah, definitely a basement. Pretty big one, maybe storage for a warehouse, and wouldn't _that_ just be an epic cliche? 

The stone was cool. Frowning, Tony glanced down to see Peter as dry as could be, which, okay, he could have a higher tolerance to heat. Possibly. Not likely. 

Not with the amount of sweat still rolling down Tony's temples.

“I got hit with a dart,” Peter said, pointing to his neck. “Right after you went down.”

“So you didn't see anything.” Okay seriously, what the hell was with the heat? The sweat had saturated his shirt now, was slipping down his spine, between his legs, and...

...uh.

That. That definitely shouldn't be happening.

Vaguely, he heard Peter reply in the affirmative, he didn't see a thing, but he couldn't process it because there, in the corner, and there, by the door. Little, steady red lights. He stumbled forward, hand already outstretched and he wasn't surprised at all when he encountered thick glass, probably enforced in some way that would mean even if his suit wasn't shot to hell, he wouldn't be able to blast through. Wouldn't really matter anyway—the little windows were too small to squeeze through, though he'd be really happy to destroy what's on the other side. 

He tried the door without hope. Damn thing was solid metal, and it didn't budge when he tugged. 

Peter called his name again. Slowly, Tony turned.

More red lights on the opposite wall. 

The weight between his legs was getting heavier. 

Not even Loki was this sick. Who the  _fuck_ was this sick?

“Kid.” Tony leaned heavily against the door. His shirt stuck to his back—without really thinking, he tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. “You're gonna need to knock me out.”

“What?” 

“Knock me out.” It was so hot, god, it was getting hard to breathe. “They gave me something, some fucked up form of roofies or something, I don't... I don't know.” Panting, hard gulps of breath and wow, his own hands felt really nice on... no, no! He shook his head, hard, slammed it back against the door but not hard enough, couldn't find the strength. “Knock me out! Now!”

“I... I don't think I can. And why?”

Tony grit his teeth, tried to rake his nails into his own skin but the pain signals got mixed up, shit, whatever they gave him was strong. Getting stronger. “'course you can, you're super strong.”

“No, they gave me something.” Peter, like an utter, trusting _idiot,_ was coming closer instead of backing away. “I'm okay, I think, just. Kinda shaky? I thought they gave you the same thing.”

“Nope.” Tony was going to kill them. He was going to get out of here and he was going to kill every. Single. _Fucking._ One of them. “Get away. Get the hell away, kid, stay over there, I'll try to—I'll try.”

His dick was fully hard now, harder, fucking throbbing along with his elevated heart rate and... and there was something. He said... right, try. Okay, door, the door was nice, kinda cool and solid and maybe if he just...

At some point his eyes closed, and they wouldn't open. Didn't matter, really. Sight didn't matter. Just feeling. Too much heat, actually, he needed—

Something cool touched his face. He tried to open his eyes but no, the lids wouldn't budge. Fine, that was fine, he'd just lean into the nice, icy thing against his cheek, yeah, that was good, was there more of that?

He heard a sound, something light and distant. Pleasant. Coming from the cold, maybe? It made more sounds when he reached for it, got a hold of it in both hands and oh, fuck yes, that was what he needed. Only there was something... something in the way. He tugged at it blindly, and the sounds increased in volume. Huh. That was neat. 

The cold jerked away from him—the hand left his face. A snarl twisted into his lips and he lunged forward, eyes still sealed shut but it didn't matter, nothing was keeping him from the relief he needed. 

Ahhh, there it was. More sounds, a whole stream of them this time, and that weird something came away bit by bit in his hands until there was just the chill. He yanked it against his body, wanted to fucking roll in it but... more something in the way. On himself this time. 

The cold got away again while he got it off, spewing more noises that were rapidly increasing in volume. That was okay—the sounds were still nice. Almost as nice as the cold. 

The space was big. It was difficult to find the cold again, especially when it abruptly stopped making noise—but eventually his arms closed around it and this time, there was no way he was letting it get away. It felt too good, especially between his legs, where everything was the hottest.

The sounds returned. They got louder when he pushed and fell, all his weight on top of the cold now pinned against the floor. That was good. It got louder again when he rutted against the cold, rubbed the worst of the heat against it, held it down with his body and his arms. There was a place where it was soft, and the coldest, and he rutted against it the hardest, tried to shove himself right inside.

He must have succeeded because the ice was suddenly inside him, spreading fast and there were more sounds now, his sounds, and...

Words.

“...se you gotta fight it, Mr. Stark, please...”

Tony stilled. His eyes were still heavy, but he wouldn't open them anyway. 

The cold was warming. He was shaking, the sweat now like ice against his skin. He had to... try. Did he try? 

One by one, his fingers let go. The c—the body—oh god. 

Oh god,  _Peter._

He was going to kill them. He was going to kill every single one of them.

And then he was going to kill himself.

~

It was two weeks later, after being drugged unconscious and mysteriously reappearing in his own home, that Tony found out (from Steve fucking Rogers, of course) that the council Fury had once answered to was responsible for Tony and Peter's capture.

He'd sent a package with a phone. It rang every hour until Tony finally picked it up, six days after he'd woken up in his lab.

They were trying to discredit the Avengers. Get the public to turn on them, as if they hadn't partially done that already. The video was meant to be streamed directly to facebook, of all places, but someone out there was watching out for him because not only did it never make it, but the video seemed to have been destroyed. It had to have been, they would have posted it by now, right?

They already got Steve. Took footage of a rescue and made it look like he was helping criminals escape. His rebellion against the Accords had already put him in a bad position, so it didn't take much more than that to push public opinion of him over the edge.

“Are you okay?” Steve kept asking, and Tony ignored it every time.

It was harder to ignore the texts saying the same thing, from a person who had absolutely every reason to avoid him and yet refused to do so.

He sent checks to Peter's place, for counseling or anything else he might need. He buried himself in work, research, tracking down any mention that might possibly be a clue as to the identity of the Council members. Coffee and alcohol kept him going for a few days before he finally had to break and drink some water, force down some food. Just enough to stay alive until he found them.

Week three rolled by, and Peter showed up in his house.

“Get out!”

Peter didn't even flinch. He set a bag down on Tony's worktop (how the hell did he get in? Oh wait, right, Peter was a genius, too), along with a huge white to-go cup.

“Drink that.” Peter slid the cup toward him.

“Exactly what part of 'get out' didn't make sense to you?”

“Drink. That.”

Tony crossed his arms. “You need to leave, kid. Just go.”

“Nope.” Peter hopped up on the table and opened the bag. “What are you working on?”

Maybe if he ignored him? Tony turned away and went back to the computer—FRIDAY had a potential lead, the first since they'd started the search.

“I'm not going away until you at least drink that.”

Nothing. Everyone had a paper trail, damn it, there had to be something...

A white cup appeared beside him. Tony snatched it up and hurled it against the wall.

“You gotta stop sending those checks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said calmly, as if Tony hadn't just splashed a massive cup of water all over the wall and floor. “There's a counselor at my school, I don't actually have to pay one.”

Tony whirled in his chair, eyes wide, but Peter was already shaking his head. “I didn't tell her any names. Just what happened, since it never, you know, showed up. I'm okay, I swear. You didn't hurt me.”

Physical pain wasn't the only way to hurt someone. Tony remembered the mad rush of an anxiety attack, the way his mind raced so quickly he couldn't get out and god, if Peter didn't leave he'd have one right here, right now.

“I'm not.” Tony's voice was tight, barely squeezed from a closed throat.

Peter nodded, once. “Okay. I'm not either, I guess, but not... I don't blame you. Please don't think I blame you.”

No, of course he didn't. He knew what happened, logically. He knew Tony wasn't in control. Didn't matter. Tony blamed himself, and he blamed the Council.

He finally looked, really looked, at Peter's face. The forgiveness there damn near tore him to shreds.

Fuck, fuck, he couldn't... he had to stay alive, after he found the rest of them. If he didn't, then Peter would find a way to blame himself—because in that way, they were very much alike.

“Alright, genius,” Tony managed, shoving out another chair for Peter. “Help me find the people that are to blame.”

~

It took a year for Tony to find them all. Peter helped, as did Fury (who was responsible for stopping not only the video of Tony, but three more attacks on other Avengers). Tony told Peter a comfortable lie about turning them over to the proper authorities while Fury buried them where no one would ever find them... at least, hopefully not until those responsible were already long dead.

Tony never forgave himself, no matter how many times Peter assured him everything was okay.

But he did learn to live with it, and that would have to be enough.

 


End file.
